


The Bane of Durin

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arkenstone - Freeform, Dragons, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thror's greed for the Arkenstone has cursed the Line of Durin, resulting in his great-grandchildren, Fili and Kili, being Dragonborn. The kingdom of Erebor becomes resigned to the curse until Bilbo Baggins arrives, changing everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DietBiohazard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DietBiohazard/gifts).



> This was a prompt by DietBiohazard, who wanted to see some Fili and Kili as dragons. Hopefully I haven't screwed it up too much. And I promise it's not as crap as it seems. I've never been good with prologues so forgive me!

Thror, father of Thrain and grandfather of Thorin, Frerin and Dis Durin, had cursed his line with his greedy obsession with gold.

When he'd found the Arkenstone, it had sought his soul, and Thror had handed it over willingly, falling prey to a Goldlust so severe and all consuming that it would be written about for decades to come.

Any heirs to the line of Durin that came now would be as twisted and cursed as the King Under the Mountain was himself. They would be Dragonborn, cursed to a life in a form that was not intended for them, and they would remain in that state until the day that a person could bring joy back into the lifeless King's heart.

For many a year, the Durin family dared not leave their halls out of fear. But love is a sudden and surprising thing, and soon enough, Thror’s granddaughter Dis had been struck by Cupid and was wishing to be married.

The event was a strange thing, equally celebrated as it was feared, but mostly it was a joyous occasion, for the people of Erebor had little to celebrate these days.

Soon after what was feared by many came to be. Dis fell with child, and bore twins. But they did not take the form of their parents. In fact, they held no resemblance to any Dwarf at all. Fear had been struck into the hearts of the Kingdom, but the love Dis gave her children regardless of their form was quickly adopted by the people as well, and as time passed they found the boys to be no more than a slight nuisance, causing trouble where they could, just as many Dwarflings did.

And so the kingdom became resigned to the curse, and to the fact that the great line of Durin would end with the two children.

That was, of course, until Bilbo Baggins came along.

 

 


	2. Bilbo Baggins Discovers a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took a little while to update! I had no idea where to begin.

Bilbo’s parents had been missing for some time. Almost ten years ago to the day they had left with a wounded Dwarf of some high standing, to travel to Erebor.

Bilbo had been too young to go with them, and had been placed in the care of the Gamgee family. Of course they had left with promises to return, but as time passed Bilbo had believed he had been abandoned.

He got older, though, and more reasonable, and had simply believed them to be dead.

Now he was of age, he wanted to find out for sure. That was how he got here, pushing through the trees in the forest right at the edge of the Lonely Mountain, trying desperately to reach Erebor by nightfall.

At the rate he was going he’d have to spend another night in the cold and dark. He didn’t like that idea.

He was considering stopping altogether and trying his best to make a fire and warm his soaked body, when he heard arguing in the distance.

“Just knock him out, Bert!” an irate voice snapped, and Bilbo crept to where he saw firelight. There revealed were three disgusting looking dwarves.

“What if it bites me?”

Bilbo tried to get a look around them to catch a glance of their cargo, but they kept moving and blocking his view.

“For _Mahal’s_ sake, Bert, you _Dizhat-turg_ ,”

“Hey, you take that back right now!” The one called Bert stepped forward, revealing what they had in their capture. He kept himself from gasping out loud when his eyes fell on the little creature, rolled up into itself as some badly working defense mechanism, with its golden scales, large brown eyes and a long snout. It looked absolutely beautiful, and utterly terrified.

It was a _dragon_. A _baby_ _drgaon_ , and they were going to hurt it.

Bilbo found couldn’t let that happen.

So he picked up two rather heavy-looking sticks, and threw one into the trees a little while away from where he stood. The dwarves shot to attention, looking into the trees desperately.

“Go check it.” The tallest one demanded: the leader, no doubt. He nudged the smaller one, Bert, and nodded towards the trees. Bilbo waited until the first had disappeared before shuffling about loudly where he stood, capturing the attention of the other one.

“I’ll get it, Tom.” The second man picked up his axe and stormed to where Bilbo was, and Bilbo went round the tree, watching as he passed by before sneaking up behind the third one. The great thing about being a Hobbit is the fact that if one wishes, they can move unseen. This serves well in situations like this. Bilbo, reaching Tom now, lifted the branch and swung it, smacking him over the back of his head. He cried out, hitting the ground with a thump, and Bilbo rushed to the creature now, trying desperately to untie its bindings.

“Hush, hush,” he urged it, placing a gentle hand on its back. “I’m here to help.” Failing in his attempts to untie the knot in the rope, he reached for the unconscious man’s knife. He cut open the bindings and grabbed hold of the dragon. “Don’t worry; I’ll get you out of here.” He stood up, trying to distribute the creature’s weight in his arms, and froze when one of the other dwarves returned.

His eyes widened and he looked from his unconscious friend on the ground to Bilbo and the dragon.

“ _Hey_!” He called, and Bilbo bolted, running off back into the woods and in the direction of Erebor, ignoring the sounds of Dwarven swearing behind him.

He ran and ran until he could barely breathe and then he ran some more until he found a small niche of rocks where he could slide under to hide. He set the dragon down and slid his pack off, rifling through to find his blanket.

The creature huddled in the corner, watching him very carefully, as if trying to distinguish his motives.

“I don’t know where you come from,” Bilbo said now. “But I’ll bet you’re hungry.” The dragon perked up, eyes lighting with interest, and it edged closer, watching Bilbo pull out the last of his food. “It’s not much,” he continued now. “But it’s all I’ve got.” He broke off a bit of bread and cheese and offered it to the creature, who tentatively sniffed at it before devouring it whole.

Bilbo jumped a little when its muzzle brushed against his skin, scales cold and rough.

“I suppose you can understand me, then.” He found himself continuing now. “Well, I suppose I should tell you my name. Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins. I’m a Hobbit, from The Shire,” he paused, wondering if he’d gone mad. “I’m looking for my parents. They went missing some time ago; they were on their way to Erebor with a Dwarf Prince. Frerin, I think his name was.” The dragon cocked its head to the side. “I suppose you’ve never been to Erebor,” he sighed now. The creature whined, as if disagreeing.

“You have?” he asked dubiously. “Do you live there?” the creature wriggled its head, almost like it was agreeing. “A dragon living with _Dwarves_?” Bilbo asked now. “My, how odd. Are you well liked?”

The dragon jerked its head upwards, moving closer and snuggling into Bilbo’s stomach.

“Well, I’m on my way there, so perhaps I can take you home after all.” He tentatively stroked the creature’s side, eliciting gentle mewling sounds from it. “What a strange turn of events this is.” He murmured to himself. “I just hope those Dwarves don’t find us.” The dragon growled, and Bilbo rather fancied that it was it telling him that he would be protected.

He fell asleep, wondering how his mother would smile knowing that he was kept warm by a dragon that night.

 

* * *

 

He was woken in the morning by a nudging against his face, and when his eyes flickered open, he found the dragon looking directly at him, seeming to have gotten tired of waiting for him to wake on his own.

“My,” he groaned, stretching uncomfortably. His whole body ached. “Quite the morning alarm, you are.” The creature looked rather proud at that. “I suppose we’d better get moving, then.” He rolled his blanket up and stuffed it into his travel pack. “The thought of a proper meal and the prospect of sleeping in an actual bed are enough to spur me into movement this early in the morning, what do you think?” The creature whined its approval.

“Can you move yourself?” the dragon pressed it’s nuzzle softly against one of its rope-chaffed leg. “Oh, my. Alright, I’ll carry you. But you musn’t blame me if I drop you- I’m not the strongest person in the world.” He got to his feet and picked the dragon up, letting it curl happily against his chest, its head resting on his shoulder. It took only a few hours of walking before he reached the large, dominating gates of Erebor, where he received quite a bit of attention. The guards, having spotted the dragon immediately, charged for him, calling out. Obviously they assumed him to be the thief, and he was busy assuring them of just that when one guard reached to snatch the dragon from his arm. But it snarled, snapping at their hands, sending them backwards.

“I believe that means he doesn’t want to be touched.” Bilbo said gently. “I saved him from three dwarves just last night in the forest, and he is exhausted and hungry. Perhaps you can show me to his master?” The dwarves, still regarding him suspiciously, reluctantly agreed.

“Where are we going?”

“Royal Halls,” was the gruff reply.

“The _Royal_ Halls?”

“What are you anyway?” the man asked, eyeing him over instead of answering. “You’ve got Elf ears, but you ain’t no tree-shagger, yer too short.” Bilbo spluttered.

“Tree-shagger?” he repeated, shocked. “Well, I’m a Hobbit, if you must know.”

“What’s a Hobbit?”

“We’re small creatures from the West. Near… the Blue Mountains, and Ered Luin.” The man let out a noise as they reached the heavilly guarded entrance to the Royal Halls.

“What’s this?” a tall, bald, tattooed man demanded, stepping forward.

“Dwalin,” the man replied curtly. “This… _Hobbit_ saved the Drgaonborn child from the kidnappers.” Dragonborn _child_? Bilbo looked down at the bundle in his arms. What on earth was this creature? The other Dwarf, Dwalin, eyed him over shrewdly.

“Yes, well, you have our thanks, creature.” He said now, making Bilbo raise an eyebrow. “I’ll take it from here.” He reached out to take the dragon from Bilbo, but once again it reacted, snarling at the man.

“Kili.” Dwalin warned. “You’ll come with me now.”

“His name is Kili?” Bilbo asked before glancing back down at it. “You should go with Mister Dwalin now, you know.” Her informed Kili now. “I’m sure whoever looks after you has been missing you very much, and I need to find somewhere I can get something to eat.” Kili just whined stubbornly, burying his face back into Bilbo’s chest. “Oh dear,” he murmured now. “I’m sorry,” he glanced back up at the Dwarf now. “He seems to have latched himself onto my shirt.”

Dwalin was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, seemingly dubious. “You _speak_ to him?” he asked now, sounding incredulous.

“Well, yes,” Bilbo answered. “He seems to like it.”

Dwalin considered him for a moment more. “You’ll come with me.” He declared flatly, turning on his heel and pushing past the guards. “ _Now_.” Bilbo started forward, almost tripping over himself, and rushed after him through the doorway.

“Will you be able to get him off of me?” Bilbo wondered as they walked. Well… Dwalin _stalked_ , more like, and Bilbo strained to keep up with him, huffing and panting from exertion.

“Probably,” Dwalin answered wryly. “I’m not sure. He’s never taken a liking to someone who’s not a member of the Royal Family before.”

“I didn’t know Dwarves had dragons.” Bilbo said now. Dwalin just laughed and stopped in front of a large pair of wooden doors, knocking loudly.

“They don’t, mate.” The doors creaked open and a small face peered out.

“Oh, Dwalin.” The little Dwarf must have been only about Bilbo’s size, and he was smiling up at Dwalin as if he hung the moon. “What did you need?”

“We have Kili.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Bilbo. The Dwarf’s eyes widened as he took the sight in before he shut the door quickly again. Dwalin didn’t wait for the Dwarf to reappear, though; he stalked off again, continuing to move down the hall.

“I don’t…” Bilbo trailed off, jogging after him.

“Ori will notify the Royal family and they’ll remove themselves from their meetings and gather in Thrain’s study.” He pushed open another heavy-looking door and ushered Bilbo inside. It was a rather pretty room, cosy and warm, a cheery fire blazing in the corner. Bilbo took a seat on one of the comfortable looking chairs, thankful for some form of rest. Kili, obviously pleased enough that Bilbo was staying, unlatched himself form Bilbo’s shirt and curled in his lap. Bilbo smiled and stroked the top of his head, hands trailing softly over his scales.

There was silence for a good while, and Bilbo was starting to relax, until the door was pushed open with  aloud creak and in rushed three very tall looking Dwarves, all looking very hostile and frightening. Bilbo tensed.

“Kili!” Kili straightened up now, tail flapping in happiness like a dog’s might.

“Who the hell is that?” the youngest-looking one demanded.

Bilbo winced. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse for him.

And then he realised who was pointing at him.

" _Frerin_?"

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did turn the Trolls into Dwarves, because I can’t imagine three Trolls managing to sneak into Erebor and kidnap Kili in a quiet, stealth like attempt. It just doesn’t seem like a thing that would go well. Also: Dizhat-turg – someone with an unkempt beard.


	3. Answers

“How do you know who I am?” Frerin demanded now, eyeing him cautiously.

“My name is Bilbo Baggins. You don’t remember me?” he cocked his head at Frerin. “You travelled with my parents, Belladonna and Bungo. They were your guides from the Shire. They never returned, and I came looking for them.”

Frerin turned a ghostly shade of white.

“Yes,” he breathed now. “I do recognise you now. Though you were young when I saw you, I see your mother in your demeanour.”

Bilbo looked at his feet as the words were spoken. “They are dead, then, I suppose.” He muttered, voice very small.

“I’m... sorry,” Frerin managed after a moment. “I sent a letter to notify what family they had, though I can see now it never reached you in The Shire.”

“I believed them to be dead for a long time.” Bilbo replied gently now. “You have only verified the obvious.”

“And you have travelled a long way to have something you claim to be obvious reiterated to you.” Frerin replied, looking sad.

“I needed to know for sure, you understand.” Bilbo inclined his head politely, and Frerin nodded.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“So this is what a Baggins looks like, is it?” The female of the group asked. “A... what do you call it? A _Bobbit_?”

“A Hobbit,” Bilbo corrected politely. “And yes, I am a Baggins, but I’m also a Took.” Frerin grinned, understanding, though the other two did not, so their faces remained stoic.

“This still does not explain why he is here, or why he has Kili.” The older man looked much like Frerin, only broader and certainly a great deal more frightening.

“Kili refuses to let go of him.” Dwalin explained now. “It seems he’s formed a... attachment to the Hobbit.”

“I have a name, you know,” Bilbo snapped, frowning irately. “I’d appreciate you use it, rather than referring to my race. I have not called you _Dwarf_ , have I?” Frerin grinned again, and he saw the hint of a smile on the woman’s face, though Dwalin just grimaced, and the frightening man had no change in expression.

“Very well, then.” Dwalin said now. “He has formed an attachment to _Bilbo_.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied, relaxing back into the chair. His weariness had grown tenfold after the news of his parents. “And I’m sure he’ll move soon enough. I just think he doesn’t want me to leave.” Kili turned in Bilbo’s lap as he spoke, pressing a clawed paw onto his own hand and nuzzling into him to confirm the words.

“My,” the woman raised an eyebrow, “he _does_ like you. Usually he tears apart anyone who even looks at him wrong.”

“Perhaps if we bring his brother in he’ll be more inclined to move.” The other man suggested now. “Frerin, would you...?”

“Certainly, brother,” Frerin answered with a smile.

“Where is Thrain?” Dwalin asked with a frown as Frerin passed him by.

“Thrain is too busy for such a thing.” Frerin commented, obviously very sarcastic. “He remains on his throne, gazing at the Arkenstone.” He rolled his eyes before leaving the room.

“It seems we have not introduced ourselves, Bilbo Baggins.” The woman said now. “I am Dis, daughter of Thrain, and this is my brother Thorin. We are, obviously, Frerin’s older siblings. It is an honour to meet the child of those who saved our brother.”

“What exactly happened to my parents?” Bilbo asked her.

“There was a wolf attack. Frerin informed us that the woman distracted the creature long enough to him to run, and as soon as she was injured, the husband would not leave her side.”

Bilbo tried to smile, but it ended up as more of a grimace. “He never left her side.” He words were somewhat morose. “He was always trailing after her one way or another. But I am glad they helped Frerin get home.” That was the smallest sliver he could cling onto for closure, and cling he would. Desperately.

“Perhaps you could tell us how you came to find Kili?” Dis asked now, moving across the room and taking a seat beside him. “I would very much like to hear how.”

So Bilbo recounted the tale, how he found the three Dwarves, how he tricked two into leaving and knocked the third one out, how he ran off with Kili and trekked with him to the gates. By the end Frerin had returned, carrying a wriggling bundle in his arms.

“There’s another one.” Bilbo remarked, only now just understanding what Thorin had meant by his remark about a ‘brother’.  Kili reacted immediately, jumping from his lap and rushing over to Frerin, who was setting down another golden-scaled dragon, this one with bright blue eyes. They eagerly greeted each other, nuzzling at necks and licking each other’s muzzles. Bilbo smiled. “How nice,” he said now.

“We thank you for your help, Bilbo Baggins.” Dis set a gentle hand on his arm. “Anything you need, simply ask of it and we shall give it to you.” And then she looked at him expectantly, as if he would ask for gold or jewels. Bilbo just frowned.

“I’ll bet you’d like some food and a warm bed.” Frerin declared now, grinning. Bilbo looked at him, a smile spreading across his face. At least there was someone here who understood how Hobbits worked.

“Now that sounds lovely.”

“Come on then,” Frerin gestured for him to get up. “We’ll eat you to the best meal you’ve ever had.”  Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“For someone who’s been to many Hobbit parties, you seem very unassuming of our standards of food.” Frerin laughed jollily.

“Come, Baggins. Let us eat.”

 

 

 


	4. Too Much Mead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a thing.

“What does Dragonborn mean?” Bilbo asked Frerin as they sat at one of the long dining tables in the eating hall. “I heard the guards mention it.”

Frerin spoke through a mouthful of chicken. “It’s a curse. Surely you’ve heard of the Durin curse, even in The Shire it would be infamous, I imagine.”

Bilbo just shook his head. “I have heard nothing of the such. Hobbits are never really interested in what other races are doing.”

“I suppose not,” Frerin shrugged. “It’s the Arkenstone. Heart of the mountain. It cursed Thror, our grandfather, and then our own father Thrain fell to it soon after, to the Goldsickness and it cursed all following heirs to be Dragonborn.”

“Wait,” Bilbo said now. “You mean Fili and Kili...?”

“Are supposed to be Dwarves, yes,” Frerin answered.

“My,” he sighed now before reaching for his mug of ale. “That certainly is interesting.”

Frerin burst into laughter.

“Ah, you Hobbits amuse me so.” He managed through his tears. “It is nice to see one again after so long.” He raised his own mug. “And a hero Hobbit, no less!” He raised it in a toast. “To Bilbo Baggins, hero of Erebor!”

Bilbo snickered. “You’ve had a little too much ale, I think,” he said now. “It’s all gone to your head.” Frerin laughed some more.

“Hobbits,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Such strange creatures you are.”

“And to us, you Dwarves are even odder.” Bilbo tipped his mug in Frerin’s direction before finishing his ale off. “But I will admit that you were right,” he conceded now. “This is the best meal I’ve had. But, I do add that it is probably because I’ve been travelling and am starving.” Well, _was_ starving. Not so much anymore. “And I think I would have enjoyed even hot sludge.” Frerin rolled his eyes.

“You just can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

“On the contrary I have no problem admitting I’m wrong. That’s only when I _am_ wrong, though. On this occasion I am quite right.” He let out a yawn. “I think I need to get some sleep.”

“I’ll show you to your room,” Frerin stumbled out of his chair, tripping over himself. “Only the best for our Hobbit.” Bilbo let himself be led through the winding halls and into the sleeping quarters, where Frerin stopped and waved elaborately at the door. “Your room, Master Hobbit.” He gave a deep bow, almost falling over in his drunken staggering.

Bilbo laughed. “I think you might need to sleep off your stupor, Frerin.”

“I suppose that means in my own bed,” Frerin chuckled now, “and not your own.”

Bilbo flushed. “Of course it will be in your own bed.”

Frerin laughed jollily now. “Peace, Bilbo. I mean the words only in jest.” Bilbo relaxed a little at his words. “Now, sleep. You look in need of a comfortable slumber.” And he was in need of a comfortable slumber, desperately.  He pulled the doors open, stepping inside and inspecting his room.

It certainly was luxurious. The usual high walls and ceilings, elegantly carved in Dwarven Runes, depicting great stories from their history, along with the usual comfortable furniture, including a bed that was far too big for a Hobbit like Bilbo. It was just as wonderful as he remembered Frerin telling him when he was a child, when the Dwarf Prince was sitting in his own hearth, by the fire, wrapped in bandages and wincing with movement. How he’d looked up at Frerin with such wide, eager eyes, listening to every syllable he spoke, each story he had to tell, absorbing it all with all the wanderlust that a Took held.

He crawled into bed now, letting himself finally think about his parents.

He’d known, he’d been so sure, but to have it verified was so utterly unbearably painful he wasn’t sure what he could do. It was like the knowledge had struck him so painfully in his heart that he was unable to shed tears, instead it left him breathless and dizzy. He pressed his face against the pillow and pulled the covers around him, pretending that he was at home, listening to his mother sing lullaby’s to him until he fell asleep. He hummed them for some time until darkness finally took him.

 

* * *

 

“Thorin!” Frerin sang, bursting into Thorin’s study so suddenly that anyone other than Thorin may have jumped. Of course, he didn’t. Frerin held little to no ability in surprising him anymore. Dis, who was sitting across the room, looked u p from her book and raised an eyebrow.

“Someone’s been downing the mead again.”

“I have,” Frerin replied proudly, leaning against the wall with an impish smile. “I was celebrating with Bilbo.”

“And by celebrating do you mean salivating all over the poor creature?”

 “Of course not.” He stated, but he certainly sounded a little sheepish.

Thorin set his quill down and frowned in his brother’s direction. “I suppose that means he had the sense to turn you down.” He commented now, turning in his chair so he could face Frerin fully.

Frerin pulled a face. “I should have sent him to your room instead.” he snickered at the thought. “You would have liked that.”

“Out!” Thorin pointed at the door, and Frerin ran off, laughing as he went.

He rolled his shoulders and returned to his work.

“Perhaps he _should_ have,” Dis spoke after a moment, her tone amused. Thorin shot her a glower over his shoulder.

“That’s enough of that.” He warned his sister. “I will not have you and Frerin play Cupid to some Hobbit we barely know.”

“Well, you could always get to know him a little better.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and turned back to his papers, realising there was no point trying to argue with his siblings. “Shouldn’t you be spending time with your newly found son?”

“I left him and Fili to have some alone time. You know how snappish they can get.” She got to her feet now. “But I suppose you’re right- I would like to see him again before I go to sleep.”

Thorin watched her leave, sighing. He just had to sit by and hope they didn’t do anything stupid.

Though it was highly unlikely they’d behave themselves. They never did before, why would they start now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything to get out of uni work, to be honest...


	5. Pale Enchanted Gold

Bilbo relished in the time he had to recover from his travels. It was lovely, eating and taking leisure walks… he’d forgotten such things in his travels. His mind had been preoccupied with surviving long enough to get to Erebor and find what had happened to his parents. And unfortunately he had.

He’d hoped for good news, though in his heart he’d known that was foolish. But they had died saving Frerin, and that was a good cause to die for, if one had to choose. To save another.

He’d been called back to the Royal Apartments the next morning while he was out exploring to placate an angry Kili, who didn’t seem to like that he was wandering off on his own. He also met Fili, who was much similar in temperament to his brother. Both of the creatures hung off of him, nipping his fingers or face when he didn’t pay attention to them. It seemed he’d become something of a prisoner- though Frerin insisted he was more of a babysitter.

He’d seen Thorin a few times, when he’d come to check on the boys, and each time Kili would blow fire at his heels, jolting him forward and into Thorin, which resulted in a lot of blushing and stammered apologies (at least on Bilbo’s side). And then Thorin would leave, looking irked and Fili and Kili would laugh- or at least that was what Bilbo _thought_ it was.

“Now, you have got to stop doing that.” He admonished for the umpteenth time, putting his hands on his hips as the little creatures rushed about the room in delight. “You’ll stop that or I’ll leave.” That stopped them in their tracks. Kili’s ears flattened, and his tail curled unhappily and Fili looked up at him with saddened eyes. “Now enough of that.” He pointed at them now. “Now, come on. Sit down and I’ll tell you some more about The Shire.”

They curled up by the fire, resting their heads in Bilbo’s lap so he couldn’t move, and fell asleep promptly as he spoke to them. Because he was pinned so, he resigned himself to a night of uncomfortable sleep on the floor, and leaned into the wall, trying to get comfortable, closing his eyes.

He didn’t remember dozing off, but something jolted him awake again. His eyes flickered open to find a dark figure looming above him. He jumped in shock, crying out. His noise of shock woke the boys, who shot awake, growling, their tails sticking up in the air defensively.

“My apologies, I had no want to frighten you.” The figure moved backwards, barely discernible in the firelight.

Bilbo frowned, trying to “ _Thorin_?”

“Close, but I’m afraid not. Thrain,” the man gave a bow as he introduced himself, “at your service.”

“The _King_?” Bilbo scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Thrain raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Peace, Bilbo. I hold no grudge. I only wished to check on my heirs.” Bilbo relaxed a little. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Hobbit.” Thrain said now, glancing at the boys. “The guards were spinning tales of your golden hair.”

Bilbo blushed. “It-it’s not that golden.” He murmured now. “It is a common colour in my family.”

“It is a fine shade of gold- like my treasure.” Thrain stared at his hair now, his eyes dark and clouded, making him clear his throat uncomfortably.

“Well, I’d better go.” He said now, moving for the door. “It’s awful late and-” Thrain grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“I’ll show you to your room.” He insisted fervently, and Bilbo pulled his arm from the King's grip.

“I can find it on my own.”

Thrain stepped forward to insist, crowding Bilbo’s space, but a low keening growl from Kili made him stop. He glanced at his grandsons before looking back at Bilbo, his eyes still clouded.

“Then I wish you good night.” He inclined his head politely, and Bilbo all but rushed from the room and down the hall, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed. When he reached his room he locked the door behind him and leaned against it, still not feeling quite safe.

What on earth had that been about? He’d heard stories about the insanity of the Durin family, but from what he’d seen he’d simply waved them off as scary stories.

Bilbo swallowed now, moving shakily towards the bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

 

* * *

 

The incident from last night was not forgotten in the next few days, but Bilbo did do his best to push it into the back of his mind. From what he saw of Thrain the next morning, he was polite and kind and didn’t try to grab him at all. He still made mention of Bilbo‘s hair each time they met, however, commenting on how it reminded him of his gold. It made Bilbo very uncomfortable.

But he’d put it aside, scolding himself for being so uncomfortable around the King when he was probably just being friendly. He refused to mention it to Frerin or Dis or Thorin, thinking that he was being ridiculous... which had been a mistake, in hindsight.

He’d been walking back to his quarters one night, shuffling sleepily after a long day with Frerin, when something heavy had hit him across the head, knocking him clean out. He’d woken briefly to the feeling of shaking, realising somewhere in the back of his head that he was being carried, before he passed out again.

When he woke once more he was in the dark, lying on something lumpy and cold and uncomfortable. He shifted, groaning, his head throbbing dully. He tried to move, but his hands were chained to something.

He managed to get to his knees, trying not to panic, and felt around. His hands ran over the lumps he'd been laying on, fingers lacing through small discs. _Money_? Something caught his eyes now. A light. He could see a dull glowing somewhere, casting a very watery light in the distance, leading up the stairs, and he noticed how it hit the floors, casting pale gold light onto the walls.

He was in a Treasury, the kingdom treasury, chained like some sort of animal. He panicked now, yanking his hands desperately to no avail, watching the light in the distance fading more. Was he to be chained here, like some sort of jewle or gem? Imprisoned? He thought he heard someone humming something about gold, and recognised the voice to be the king Thrain.

_“I shall never release my hold on my pale enchanted gold.”_

 

 


	6. Breakout

Bilbo refused to cry. Crying would get him nowhere. Crying was a waste of time. As he sniffled he could almost hear his mother scolding him. He had to keep calm, so he could come up with some sort of a plan. He closed his eyes, briefly trying to will away the aching in his head, and inhaled deeply.

“Okay,” he breathed now, “okay. You can do this.” One thing at a time. He could worry about how he would get out once he got rid of these chains. There had to be _something_ here to help him.

He looked around, squinting in the dark, though he found nothing but gold. He slammed his hands down in irritation, trying to keep himself calm. Getting worked up was not going to help him. But that was about as useful as telling yourself you’re not hungry when you haven’t eaten all day. He couldn’t help it.

He froze now, hearing rushed footsteps down the stairs, and shrunk down, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. The glow of light cast down the stairs and a dwarf stopped at the bottom, searching with narrowed eyes. He caught sight of Bilbo and looked over his shoulder, waving at someone, before moving over to him. Bilbo scrambled back, trying to get away from him.

“Stop-It’s alright,” he put his hands up. “I’m here to help you. But we have to move quickly, Thrain could come down any minute.” He pulled a ring of keys put of his pocket, jingling them. “Hands.” He gestured for Bilbo to raise his arms. He obeyed, simply staring at him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jüni, Dis’ husband.”

“Oh,” the lock clicked and Bilbo’s shackled fell free.

“Come on,” Jüni grabbed his elbow and hauled him to his feet. “We only have a moment.”

“Where are we going?” he asked as they ran up the stairs.

“We have to get you out of the Kingdom. Thrain has gone mad with his Goldsickness.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed.” They reached the top of the stairs to find Frerin and Thorin.

“You go back to Dis in the Throne Room,” Frerin told Jüni now. “So Thrain doesn’t think anything’s amiss.” Jüni gave a nod and slapped Bilbo on the back.

“Good luck.” And then he was gone.

“Alright,” Frerin gestured for Bilbo to start moving. “Let’s get you the hell out of here.”

 

* * *

 

They’d rushed through the city, dodging guards and dignitaries. They didn’t take horses, there was no time for that, they simply snuck through the gates, Thorin nodding to the guards, before rushing down the road that would lead them to Dale.

“He’ll follow us.” Frerin stated as they walked. “As soon as he notices Bilbo’s gone- he’ll come and find us. He’ll kill us.”

“He’s your father.” Bilbo said in shock.

“And?”

“Family does not pierce through Goldsickness.” Thorin replied bitterly. “It has befallen our father and his father before him. He cares not for flesh and blood, only treasure.”

“Why did he take me, though? I don’t understand.”

“He craves for gold in any way or form.” Thorin explained “Your hair is strikingly similar. He thinks you a jewel.” He spat the words. “Something that can be locked away from prying eyes or greedy hands.”

“So I must leave then. He will see no reason?”

Thorin looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. “He is bewitched. He will broker no arguments.”

“I suppose it is time I went home.” He murmured now, watching as the lights of Dale came closer. “Is it safe to travel at this time of night?”

“It is the only option we have.” Frerin informed him.

Bilbo didn’t reply, he just let them lead him down the road and into Dale, where they could get some ponies. For such a late time at night, the town at the foot of the mountain was quite lively, and they slipped past the throngs of people, making their way to the stables.

Thorin threw some gold at the stable-hand and they began saddling up the ponies. They froze when they heard yelling.

“I think that’s the guards.”

“I’ll distract them,” Frerin told him now. “You just get him out of here.” He ran from the stables towards the source of the noise.

“Come on,” Thorin all but hauled him up onto the horse. Bilbo had never ridden a pony before, but he managed to navigate his way out of the stables and followed Thorin, barely managing to keep him up.

Soon enough they were galloping out of Dale and towards the forests, where they could hide. Bilbo gave one last look back at The Lonely Mountain, disappearing into the darkness, and felt something inside of him sink. This was not how he wanted his trip to end. Not that he could help it, not really.

They rode in silence for some time, until they had to slow to a walk to give the ponies a rest.

Eventually, Thorin stopped his horse and climbed off, gesturing for Bilbo to do the same.

“It will be a cold night or two until we reach the next town. We can but supplies when we get there.” He tied the horses to a nearby tree.

“I suppose it’s not a good idea to start a fire.” Bilbo mused now, staring morosely at the ground.

“It’ll make them harder to find us if we refrain from that.”

Bilbo took a seat on the cold ground, and pulled his knee sup to his chest, arms wrapping around his legs.

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered now.

“It is,” Thorin agreed, taking a seat a few feet away. “But we’ll get you home soon.”

Although Bilbo was lament at his rushed departure, the idea of being by his warm fire, in his favourite chair (his feet up and a good book in his hands) made him happy.

But that happiness was short lived. The sound of boots crunching leaves and sticks made them both freeze. Thorin raised a hand, keeping Bilbo silent, before getting to his feet slowly and gesturing for him to move behind him. Bilbo obeyed, scrambling to his feet and moving so he could face the source of the noise.

“I’ll go check.” Thorin informed him, voice so quiet it was almost incomprehensible. Bilbo stayed where he was, watching Thorin creep forwards through the trees.

It was silent for a long moment before suddenly an axe came swinging out of nowhere, making Thorin stagger backwards, falling to the ground, only narrowly missing its blow. He scrambled backwards, trying to get to his feet as Thrain lunged at him, lowering the axe once more. Thorin rolled to the side, crying out in pain as the weapon clipped his shoulder. He got to his knees, putting his hands up.

“Father, stop!” But Thrain would not listen. He lifted the axe one more time, ready to swing down at kill his eldest child.

“You’re going to kill him!” Bilbo cried out.

Something in his words must have shook Thrain, because he froze, axe still raised, and slowly turned to Bilbo.

 

 


	7. The Defeatist King

Bilbo could see his eyes in the moonlight, glinting with a clouded Goldlust. “Please don’t. He’s your son. Your flesh and blood. Your _family_. That is far more precious than any stone or any jewel or any gold you could get your hands on.”

Thrain’s eyes seemed to clear slightly, and he looked from Bilbo to Thorin, who was still on the round, clutching his bleeding shoulder with one hand, the other raised, as if it would protect him from the sharp axe his father held.

The self-disgust that laced over Thrain’s face now was pitiful, and he dropped the axe with a _clunk_.

“My son,” he breathed hoarsely, reaching out. But he stopped himself. “I don’t... I don’t know what came over me.” His brow furrowed. “No,” he said now. “I do. That stone carries dark magic. The blackest of curses. And I have fallen for it, just as my father did.” Thrain fell to his knees. “I am a weak, despicable creature, indeed.”

Thorin reached for Thrain now. “It is the stone, father. We have to destroy it. Let us be rid of it once and for all.”

“And what will happen to my grandchildren, your sister-sons, if we do so? It will harm them. I would not...”

“Then we put it away. Make it nothing more than a worthless relic, a trinket.”

Thrain looked up at his son now. “I do not have the strength for such a thing.” He held up his shaking hands. “I can feel it. Its hold on me. It’s like ice has wrapped around my insides. It’s choking me.” Thrain shook his head. “I cannot return to our mountain, for I fear it will take hold of me again and I may never come back.” He looked about him now, at the forest that surrounded them. “Distance has saved me, brought me back, and I will not look foul on this gift from Mahal. I must leave.” He got to his feet.

“Father-”

“You will beg of me to stay, to return to Erebor. You will tell me we can fight it together. But I am not as strong as I used to be: both in mind and body. I feel it in my bones- this sickness, weakness. I will not fall prey to it again; my pride will not allow it.” He rested a hand on Thorin’s uninjured shoulder. “You must rid of it yourself, rise up and be the leader our people deserve. Do not let a stone dictate your actions.”

“But where will you go?” Thorin asked him.

“There are many places a Dwarf can wander. We have Mountains to the east, though I fear that is not far enough. I believe I shall travel west, to the Blue Mountains.”

“You wish to travel with no more than the clothes on your back?”

“I have travelled with worse,” Thrain told him, “as have you. Now go,” he looked behind him, although the mountain was not in sight, “return to the Kingdom and tell the court what has become of me. I fear I must move quickly, save the sickness choke me again.” He turned to Bilbo. “I can only apologise for my actions, though I know it is not enough,” he glanced over his shoulder at his son. “But I believe there are others who will be able to make it up for me.” And with that Thrain walked away, leaving them on their own. Bilbo frowned in confusion, utterly perplexed by what had occurred.

“What just happened?” Bilbo asked, watching him disappear into the trees.

“I think he was taken far enough away from the stone for its influence to wane.”

“And he’s just leaving?”

Thorin’s gaze didn’t waver. “He has to.”

So they weren’t running anymore.

Bilbo still wasn’t sure what had happened.

 

* * *

 

The ride back to Erebor was slow and sombre. Thorin didn’t speak much (not that he ever did) and Bilbo had many questions, but didn’t have the heart to ask them.

There was one, however, that he couldn’t restrain. “Tell me about the curse,” he said now, looking at Thorin across from him.

“Thror was greedy.” Thorin answered plainly. “He dug too deep and wounded the mountain, stealing its heart. In retaliation, the stone cursed our family. Any heirs we breed will become creatures that long and hunger for gold: dragons.”

“Can it be broken?”

“A King’s heart is a heavy thing- a person who can bring joy into the lifeless thing will break the curse.”

“Love and happiness, you mean.” Bilbo said now.

Thorin gave a small nod. “I do.”

“And Thrain felt no love and happiness?” The thought made him sad.

“We don’t often feel happiness. It’s not a trait Durin’s seem to have.”

“But there is much to be happy for. Even with the curse. You have your people and each other. You have a home and food and company- does that not make you happy?”

“Do such trivial things make Hobbits happy?”

“They are not trivial things.”

Thorin gave a sigh. “Perhaps not. But it has been a long time since a leader of the Durin clan felt proper happiness in their heart.”

“And you’re the new leader.” Bilbo stated.

Thorin’s posture remained rigid. “I am.”

“Then we need to find something that makes you happy,” he said simply, shrugging.

Thorin gave a wayward smile. “It is not as simple as that.”

“Why not?”

He remained silent for some time, seemingly considering his next words. “There are things that should make you happy, things that would strike light in your heart, but sometimes they don’t. You are still grateful for those things- but they give you little happiness. It will take something very strong to pierce through such a thing. An emotion so strong is rare with our people. We love forever, but our love comes slowly and very rarely.”

“But you cannot give up. There must always be hope. You are young- at least, by Dwarven standards. There is still hope for you.”

“I fear not.” He sighed now. “Our line will wither and die. The curse will never be broken.”

“Well, not with that attitude it won’t.” Bilbo would have put his hands on his hips were he not holding tightly onto the reigns. “Just imagine, a Dwarven King giving up. How it must wound your ego to know you were the only Dwarf ever to quit.” Thorin narrowed his eyes at Bilbo’s mocking words. “You know, I heard you Dwarves were stubborn creatures,” he continued now. “But you’re clearly not. You’re all just defeatists: you all just give up when things get hard.”

“I’ll have you know we do no such thing.” Thorin retorted now, frowning. “We don’t quit anything. We fight until the end.”

“I don’t think I believe you.” Bilbo sniffed now, turning away. “I doubt you’ll ever prove it, anyway.”

“The hell I won’t.” Thorin snapped, and Bilbo felt his lips twitch in amusement. Thorin exhaled noisily. “I should throw you off the side of the mountain for speaking to me in such a manner.”

“And why don’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Thorin answered honestly. “You interest me, perhaps.”

“Well, I’m glad my oddities keep me from being killed or exiled.”

Thorin smiled wryly at that.

 

 

 


	8. Attached

Thorin’s announcement had been met with a fair bit of trepidation, but mostly cheer. Apparently he was a popular ruler, regardless of his stoic personality.

Frerin and Dis had obviously been upset at the announcement, but both agreed it might be for the best. Their father would write, after all, to keep in contact, and once he reached the Blue Mountains they’d be able to visit him.

Fili and Kili had been delighted to see him again, nipping at his ankles and winding themselves around his legs to trip him up.

He didn’t see Thorin much those next few weeks, obviously he was busy taking control of the kingdom, but when he did see him he appeared to be much... heavier, like there was something more weighing down on his shoulders. But he still smiled and spoke politely with him, ensuring he had everything he needed.

And Bilbo helped where he could. After all, he felt responsible for what had happened with Thrain. So he looked after Fili and Kili, even taking them out to the markets a few times. And occasionally he’d help Thorin with shooing away hovering dignitaries, or frowning at letters that made no sense.

But eventually, he started to feel more and more like he was getting in the way, and he began to retreat, going to the library or for a long walk through Dale. He began to toss and turn at night, staring up at the ceiling and wondering whether it was time to go home or not. Only he wasn’t sure he wanted to. But he it wasn’t like he could stay forever was it? Soon he could wear out his welcome.

He brought it up with Frerin while they were drinking one night.

“You want to leave?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo gave a shrug. “I’ve been here for a while, and people are probably missing me.”

“But you can’t go.” Frerin insisted now. “I mean, we won’t hold you captive or anything,” he promised, “but we like you here! Fili and Kili love you, and so do a lot of the people. They’d be sad to see you go. In fact, I think Fili and Kili might indeed hold you captive.”

Bilbo smiled slightly. “I just feel like I’m wearing out my welcome.”

“Why would you think that?” Frerin asked him.

Bilbo just shrugged.

“Look, just stay for a little while longer, yeah? And if you still feel that way in a few days- I’ll arrange for you to go back.”

“Thanks, Frerin.”

“But you’re always welcome here. Your parents are considered heroes, and everyone knows you had something to do with clearing Thrain’s head before he left.”

Bilbo looked at his feet. “Thorin told you about that then, huh?”

“Of course he did. Dis and I know the real story. Everyone else just suspects it. They suspect a few others things, too.” He added with a sly sort of grin.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He said innocently, but Bilbo didn’t believe him for one second.

 

* * *

 

There was a heavy knock at his door that night, and the last thing he expected to see was the new King when he opened it.

“Thorin,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“May I come in?”

“Uh... sure,” he pulled the door open further, giving him room to walk inside.

“Frerin told me you’ve been thinking about leaving.” He said, still moving towards the fire.

“Ah,” Bilbo sighed. “And he sent you?”

“No, I decided to come myself.” He turned to face Bilbo now. “I thought I should...”

“Should...?”

“Well, I thought I should try and convince you to say.”

“You want me to stay?”

Thorin looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Of course I do. We’ve become quite close these past few weeks, and I like to think you’re comfortable here- regardless of my father’s actions.”

“Well, yes...”

“And... you can’t leave,” Thorin continued, “Not now. Not for a while, I’d like to think, a very long time, in fact. Because... we’re attached.”

“Attached?”  Bilbo repeated, a frown forming on his face.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Fili and Kili, Dis, Jüri, Frerin and... _me_ ,” the word seemed a struggle to get out. “I’m attached. And I think...” he paused, hesitating briefly before the words came out. “I think I might be in love with you, and I hate to make you feel guilty, but you wouldn’t want to be responsible for keeping the Durin curse, would you?”

Bilbo laughed at him, at his words, at the whole situation. Nephews for dragons, a stupid curse- it all seemed like something out of the stories his mother used to tell him.

Thorin just seemed confused, and he frowned at Bilbo for some time. “Why are you laughing?” he asked eventually.

“I’m laughing at you, the cursed King: the defeatist King.”

“I am not a defeatist King.” Thorin declared.

“And is this you proving it to me?”

Thorin looked offended. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t know what Dwarves joke about: rocks, Elves?”

He looked slightly amused, but still quite irked. “Dwarves do not joke about love.”

“And neither do Hobbits.” Bilbo informed him.

“Good then.”

“Very good,” he agreed.

“It is, yes,” Thorin added, before giving another confused look. It was the most befuddled Bilbo had ever seen him, and he loved it. “What did you just agree with?”

Bilbo laughed. “I think I might be in love with you, too, you idiot.”

Thorin looked relieved, but he frowned nonetheless.

“You _are_ speaking to a King. Most Dwarves wouldn’t be so foolish.”

“Well, I’m not a Dwarf, am I?”

“You certainly are not.” Thorin agreed now. “A Dwarf King and a Hobbit,” he chuckled, “imagine the scandal.”

“No more a scandal than the heirs to the throne being dragons.” Bilbo countered now. “You really wish for me to stay?”

“Of course I do.”

Bilbo smiled. “That is good, because I really don’t wish to go.”

 

 

 


	9. Home

The screams were the first thing he heard. Maybe some maid or a guard, whoever it was didn’t matter- what did matter was it was loud enough to wake the whole kingdom.

Bilbo had scrambled from bed, following the sounds to find a state of sheer chaos in the room where Fili and Kili slept.

“What on Earth is going on?” he pushed his way past the guards to find, instead of two scaly dragons on the floor, two small Dwarves with messy tangled hair and big smiles. His mouth fell open, and he stood there for a moment or two, dumbstruck. He would have recovered, however, had the brown-haired one not stood up on wobbly feet and cooed: “ _Bilbo_!”

“Nope,” was all he could manage before he felt his legs give way under him and unconsciousness take him as he hit the ground.

He awoke to a throbbing pain in his head and two vicious protectors above him, acting guard and yelling at anyone who came near.

“Oh dear,” he pressed a hand to his head, struggling to sit up with the weight on top of him. He just stared at them. “You’re Dwarves.” Well, yes, that much was obvious. But his brain was working incredibly slow.

The dark haired one grinned up at him. “Bilbo!” he called again. The blond one nuzzled into his chest. Bilbo thought he might faint again.

“Oh dear,” he repeated. “This is certainly an interesting turn of events.”

Dis burst into the room now, pushing aside the crowd, and upon finding her sons in their intended state she cried out, falling to her knees in front of them and pulling them off of Bilbo and to her chest.

“My babies!” She kissed their heads. “Look at you!”

Bilbo laughed at her delight, struggling to his feet.

This was certainly going to be a hard one to explain.

 

* * *

 

From then on, Fili and Kili grew up as normal Dwarrows, though they never forgot their early years of what they liked to call ‘imprisonment’, though Kili always added that it was a pretty cool imprisonment to have. After all, not everyone gets to be a _dragon_.

Even if in the end they had to learn how to read and write and speak properly at an age that was highly unacceptable for that sort of thing. By now they should have learned more than one language, being the heirs to the throne. But they were learning quickly, and enjoying doing normal Dwarven things. They had many admirers, too, the boys, though they were closer to no one but each other, and it was soon apparent that for them there would be no other. They all but hung off of Ori, who was only just reaching maturity now, much to Dwalin’s irking.

And they seemed to just _love_ their pranks. Tripping people and causing chaos and cackling from afar as it all panned out. Bilbo should have realised what they’d be like when they started tripping him up in the beginning.

It was utterly frustrating though no one had the heart to tell them to stop (which the boys knew clearly and used it to their advantage as much as possible).

Bilbo stayed in Erebor as long as he could without Bag End being overrun by Sackville-Bagginses. But when he did return, it was only briefly, accompanied by Balin, Bombur (one of the best cooks in Erebor) and his brother Bofur. Bilbo enjoyed their company, and often listen Balin spin tales about Dwalin and Thorin when they were young. Fili and Kili had begged to come along, but Thorin disallowed it. They were still much too unsure about the world around them to go gallivanting off so quickly. Besides, they were much too young anyway.

He didn’t stay in The Shire long. Just the right amount of time to get things in order and leave the house to Hamfast Gamgee. After all, they’d been working in the gardens at Bag End for a very long time and Bilbo thought he deserved at least something for all his hard work. He did have a big family to house, and Bag End was perfect.

The trek back to Erebor was long and tiring, but it was completed with a sense of success. He was starting a whole new life here in Erebor, leaving Hobbiton behind.

It was both utterly terrifying and thrilling.

He watched the gates loom into sight now as they drew closer and closer to The Lonely Mountain.

“Looks like we’re home,” he said with a smile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's finished! I hope that's everything neatly tied off. If not, I'll apologise now.   
> I hope you all enjoyed it, especially DietBioharazrd, who requested this.


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